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red and blue and me and you

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Superboy Blue simply looks at them for a long while, bobbing up and down as he takes them in and eventually says, “You all look older.” 

Jason’s snort comes out as a crackle of static through his helmet, and Blue’s eyebrow slowly raises. His head slowly tilts like he’s a puppy, and Jason manages to to wheeze out a response. “Bud, you’re fuckin’ blue and, like, seventeen. I don’t think us being older is the weirdest thing here.” 

He hums noncommittally and rocks back on his heels, child-like despite his appearance, and taps a finger against his mouth. Nothing else, though. Just fidgets absentmindedly as he continues to look at them. After a couple of seconds of silence, Tim cuts in on their conversation, palm pressing against the glass separating him from his brother, voice deceptively calm.

“What happened?” 

He doesn’t say anything. 

On Jason’s right, Dick leans forward as close as he can, desperate as he asks the question that’s all burning on their minds. “Where’s Damian? Is he okay?” Through his mask, they can all see that his eyes are wide with something like anticipation and fear; he’s the only one that’s emoting what he really feels. 

Jon— or whoever this blue guy is— kicks off the ground instead of giving them an answer and floats toward the opposite end of the room nonchalantly, flipping a couple of levers and buttons along his way. 

“Red’ll be here soon,” he chirps, dodging their questions with a hum, and sits down in front of their glass cages (pods?) with an audible thump. “He’s gonna be so pissed.” He singsongs, and grins. Ducking his head, he mutters something under his breath that they can’t quite hear, but one word sounds like their brother’s name. 

He doesn’t reply to anything they ask or shout at him after that. 


Hours pass, and nothing changes. They all gave up trying to talk after the first hour, and instead sit in sullen silence. 

The only thing that warns them of something new is a distant clanking sound, and then the door in the corner slides open and a red blur is leaping at Blue Jon and snarling like a rabid animal. It’s momentum knocks them both over, and it scrambles on top of him and straddles his chest. It’s— a Red Jon. 

He fists at Superboy Blue’s jacket, leans down and growls. 

“How could you do this?” The Jon below him shrugs and smirks up at him, eyes glinting wickedly. 

Tauntingly, he says, “Angry that I had the idea, hm?” Red slams him against the ground, knuckles whitening as his grip tightens even further, and the whole structure shakes at the force of it. The captured heros stumble in their cages, trying not to trip, and Superboy Red’s head turns over to them with a snap. His eyes flare with heat, and he moves to get off of his twin, but Blue flips him over onto the ground with a twist of his hips and pins him. 

Red Jon legitimately hisses, and the brothers exchange a wide-eyed glance. Whatever is going on, it’s not good. Not good at all. 

“It’s better that I did it rather than him. He might’ve gotten sentimental and tried to stay, so really I did what was best for all of us, Jonno.” The captured Red tenses, but doesn’t try and get out of his grip, instead forcibly relaxing into it with a half-grimace. Blue then perks up a little bit, and turns toward the door as it slides open. 

Damian stands there, face twisted up in a snarl, and stomps in. 

He’s older too. Not very much taller (probably still smaller than Tim), but he’s obviously matured and aged as he glares down at the two Jons on the floor. Dick gasps his name quietly and pounds a raised fist against the glass, but their brother doesn’t even twitch in their direction. 

“What are you two idiots doing?” 

Superboy Red shoves off the Blue version of him and clambers up, crossing his arms irritably as he meets Robin’s furious gaze. He opens his mouth, but the twin on the floor beats him to the punch. “Oh, Robbie, I was just tellin’ him how you were planning on going t’Earth.” Damian stiffens slightly, and pales the littlest bit, and Jason, Dick, and Tim all exchange wary glances with each other. 

It’s obvious he can’t see them, most likely because of what Blue fiddled around with earlier, and based off of the conversation and lies that just occurred, that’s a bad thing.  


Blue knew about Damian’s plan and ‘did it for him’ out of his own self interest because if Damian went to Earth then he ‘would have stayed’ — but he didn’t tell him that he had gone instead. So the two Jons were hiding the fact that Blue went to Earth (for his brothers, most likely, because Damian hadn’t seen them in years based off of their aging) and were using Damian’s plan as an excuse for them to be fighting. Technically, that was true, but the two of them were pinning their anger on Damian’s plan instead of Blue’s execution of it. It didn’t make sense. Why didn’t they just reveal that Superboy Blue went to earth? And that the trio was there? That was what their little brother wanted, correct? So why were they taking their anger out on him instead of eachother?


Jon— the Red one— lopes across the floor with one or two steps and grabs their little brother by the hair and yanks. Damian... doesn’t strike back, or whimper, or anything, just limply lets him do what he wants like he’s used to it. His head is pulled aside so his throat is bared, (his expression is so blank, oh god) and Superboy Red crowds in close, teeth brushing up against his vulnerable skin as he mouths up toward his ear and whispers something to him while his other hand grabs harshly at a thin hip. 

Everything stops, for a moment. 

Jason bellows, slams up against the glass while Tim stiffens and Dick stares. “This isn’t happening,” he says, hands coming up to tug at his own hair, “tell me I’m reading too much into this situation. Please.” 

Blue shifts towards them, and grins, slow and sadistic. He cups his hands beneath his chin and simply watches as they rattle against the glass before turning back to his twin and their brother, ignoring them. They don’t notice or care, their eyes only on Damian as he’s manhandled around roughly.  


Practically purring, the Red Jon shoves him over to the nearest wall, tugs him close, and bites at his ear. His hands crawl up Damian’s body, teeth still pulling at the tender flesh of his earlobe until it goes painfully taut and holds it there for a couple of seconds meanly. He finally lets it snap back into place when Damian’s expression scrunches up slightly, and when he examines it the pressure has left it red and irritated. Red can’t help but  lave his tongue over it; the deep flush of the skin in his color is one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. He continues to lick at it gently before he suckles his way to Robin’s mouth and tries to plant a kiss on his lips, but he’s denied when Damian tips his head away in a silent, tiny protest. 

A knee slides between his legs as punishment, and he’s forcibly made to straddle it as Red raises it higher, putting all of his weight on it and making only the tips of his toes brush the ground as he’s lifted. He vacantly looks at the ceiling, trying to disassociate away from what’s happening with steady, even breaths, and stays perfectly pliant. 

But he can’t help the quiet yelp that escapes when Jon’s thigh catches against his crotch harshly. 


Interested, Blue scrambles to his feet and glides over, irises widening with arousal, and places his jaw on his twin’s shoulder, pressing his chest to his back. His pale blue hand cups Damian’s cheek and tilts it towards him, thumb brushing across his lips in a firm, possessive caress, and he murmurs something to his twin quietly. Whatever it is makes Superboy Red perk up, glance back at him, and nod eagerly, and the trio tenses at the look.  

They’re already horrified, terrified, and the promise in that quick exchange between the two makes the primitive part of their brains blare in warning. 

The Blue Jon steps back, letting his twin move back from the wall and slide Damian off of his leg in one smooth movement. Red strikes viper-fast when his steel toed boots meet the floor and grabs at his throat, squeezing it briefly as a warning. Then, with a scornful curl of the lip and a cursory glance at Dick, Jason, and Tim, he backhands Damian hard enough to send him toppling to the ground. Frozen in fear at the sudden act of violence towards their youngest, they all stay perfectly still. 


He wheezes painfully belly-down on the ground until Red reaches down and clutches his locks in a tight fist, hoisting him up by the hair and forcing him to arch awkwardly, almost obscenely, into a half moon position. He’s forcefully flipped back on his ass with a quick, precise movement, and the Red version of Jon digs his fingers into his scalp and starts to drag him out of the room by the hair. 

Damian can’t help but thrash wildly, animal instincts kicking in, making him fight to escape from the burning hurt radiating from his scalp while whines force themselves out of his throat. His flailing only increases the pressure, and he lets out a sound that’s half-sob half-snarl. Despite this, his heels dig into the floor while his hips buck madly and his hands claw at the offending arm, but they don’t do a thing as Superboy Red still hauls him easily towards the entrance of the room. 

He stops in front of the door — which slides open automatically — and when he jerks his grip on Damian’s hair a little bit, he can’t help but cry out, limbs jolting in protest. The Kryptonian merely looks down at him and grins, utterly feral. “You shouldn’t have been bad, Dami,” he coos, voice sickly saccharine, and then, abruptly, like a switch is flipped, it drops to something dark and mean and heavy with unspoken promise. “Guess that means you’ll need to be punished.” 

With that, he steps forward again (his hand still firm on Damian’s scalp) and pulls him from the room. 


“Y’know,” The remaining Superboy says, “Despite acting like he has a stick up his ass all the time, he can fit both of us in at once.” He walks around their pods, examining them like the three of them are animals in a zoo, and continues to nonchalantly chatter over their violent attempts to break out. It was impossible for them to, of course, but it wasn’t like they knew that. The pods had been built for Kryptionians and equipped with one-way, sound-muffling glass, making it so that the average human couldn’t tell that there was anyone within them. Or escape.

It was funny to see them try, though.

A couple minutes later— after they were all worn out— he comes to a stop right in front of the pods and looks at the trapped vigilantes. They all glare at him, and if Blue didn’t think it was funny because of how weak humans were he might even be a little bit scared.

Absentmindedly picking at his nails, he raises an eyebrow at their expressions and drawls, “He’s ours.”

Almost all at once, the vigilantes shift forward, body language screaming bloody murder, and he continues.

“His heart, mind, and body belong to us now. You won’t have him. You can’t.” His head turns a little bit towards the door, and a grin splits across his face. He wanders towards the door, looks back and sweeps his gaze over them all, and breathes something so quietly and coldly that it makes the trio’s stomachs twist into knots.

“Ours to protect. Ours to love. Ours to fuck.”

Almost on cue, there’s a thin wail from where Damian was dragged off to. It’s high pitched with something they don't want to think about and hurting and unmistakably their little brother. Blue Jon makes a sound of appreciation, and sends a smug look at Dick, Tim, and Jason and exits without a word.